


Pre-eminent

by Beauxriche



Category: (500) Days of Summer (2009), Inception (2010), RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beauxriche/pseuds/Beauxriche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Explicit for later chapters. How Arthur and Eames came to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pre-eminent

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in YEARS.
> 
> So, Arthur's background is from 500 Days of Summer and Eames' is from RockNRolla. This is the story of how Eames became Eames and how Arthur became Arthur. Mucho gracias to my beta Sociially-Diisoriiented <3.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Edward Carson: thirty four years old and suspected of embezzling thirty million dollars. Our client, Mr. Harold, wants us to acquire the information on his offshore bank account so he can get his money back. We've been able to locate him to Surrey and that's why we are here.”

Cobb sat down and looked at the devastatingly unimpressed man in front of him and Arthur. Arthur had never been so intimidated by another person. Not only was his suit pressed to perfection, but nothing, not even a twitch of his finger or an uncertain flickering of the eyes, gave away any hint of personal faults. Most people had doubts hidden in their body language, but this man, Archy, proved to be confident in every one of his mannerisms.

“So what happens with our cooperation?” Archy asked, his eyes glancing away from the two of them to the man beside him. Arthur had done his research; he knew who he was looking at. Johnny Quid: ex-junkie and smart enough to have come back from the dead more than once.

“With your cooperation we can get him out of your hair and behind bars,” Cobb said, shifting in his seat so slightly that only Arthur was able to see. Cobb was nervous. They didn't deal with gangsters on a daily basis...or ever. Arthur knew that Cobb might be feeling out of his depth but nothing showed his hesitance to anyone other than Arthur. Mal would have been perfect for this part of the job, with her breezy accent and effortless charisma, but Cobb had refused let his newly-wed wife negotiate with the sharks.

Archy stared at the extractor. Had he caught it, the shift? His slicked-back hair made his eyes look harder, so sharp they gave the impression of catching everything from the swaying curtains to the shadow passing over Cobb's wedding band.

There were more men outside; they had passed them on the way in to see Archy. The men hadn't looked mean while laughing over cards and billiards, but Arthur knew enough about gangsters to know they would be deadly if rubbed the wrong way.

“Do you expect me to simply do as you say as a good gesture of my character?” Archy leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on the table and his palms together in front of his face.

“Of course not. Our client has given us a very charitable income for this job and if you help, a generous percentage will go your way.” Cobb said. He didn't need all the money and if it meant that he would get into Archy's Tolerable List, then so be it.

“How charitable is this bugger?” Johnny piped up, almost as if he had been waiting for a moment where he could finally enter the conversation.

Archy turned his head ever so slightly and glared at Quid. The man was quiet in an instant.

“Mr. Harold is offering us six figures,” Arthur said. Maybe he was just being childish, but if Johnny, who was obviously just supposed to stand quietly and observe, was able to talk, then so could he.

Cobb was kind enough to just glance his way for a fraction of a second.

“Split the pay 60/40 and we've got a deal. Do not make me explain who the 60 goes to,” Archy stood up then and extended his hand. Cobb did the same. The moment they shook hands, the tension in the room seemed to vanish. Not to mention it was at the same time that Archy smiled. “My boys will keep in touch.”

When Cobb and Arthur left the room, heading back to the car where Mal was waiting for them, Cobb shook his head, “I fucking hate gangsters.”

For some reason, that was the funniest thing Arthur had ever heard Dom Cobb say.

***

Arthur had been with Cobb and Mal for going on two years. After every architect firm had rejected his resume and his very short relationship with Autumn had ended, he had decided he would give himself one more interview. If nothing came from that, he would change his name and move to some tiny town and take on a nine to five job with no dreams or aspirations.

His last interview before domestic loneliness had been with Cobb and Mal, who had looked more like his secretary than his fiancée. He had repeated his usual speech; how he had gotten into drawing, his persisting love for architecture; and then he had shown Cobb his work. The amount of detail was impressive, Cobb had said. Mal had sat silently, just looking at him. It had been unnerving, making him feel as though he was being scrutinized instead of evaluated.

Arthur had left the office with certainty of failure in his thoughts. Two days later, he had received a call back and the job that had been laid out before him had been something he would have never thought possible. Suffice to say, he hadn't believed it for a minute until he was taken under.

Dreamshare. It was beyond anything physically possible, but there it was, packaged in a sleek silver briefcase.

Instead of Architect, he had been appointed Point Man. Mal had suggested the position and Cobb had gone with it.

Whatever the woman had seen in him was the reason he was in his hotel room in London rather than singing karaoke in New York.

***

A shower and a good night's rest after hours of flight time was just what the doctor ordered. Arthur would get back on the job when his body was ready for it. He could go days without sleep and still work with full efficiency, but resting his body was a luxury he would take advantage of. Cobb would no doubt be doing the same, though he had a body to share his bed with.

Of this fact, jealousy was not a noun Arthur would readily admit, but he could hardly deny it to himself. Ever since he had started working with the extractor, all he could really look forward to were lonely nights. Though he had tried hooking up at bars, he had found himself shying away the moment his company mentioned going back to their place. It was embarrassing how badly he wanted to get laid, but couldn't find the balls to go through with it.

After changing into a pair of sweat pants, Arthur collapsed into his hotel bed and didn't wake up till the next morning when his phone started to ring.

“'Lo?”

“Arthur, get ready. Info drop at 12. Hotel restaurant,” Cobb's voice was coherent and certain, but also as if he had just woken up.

“Hotel restaurant? You mean this hotel's restaurant? Don't you think that's just a little bit risky?” Arthur asked. They always kept a low profile, which would no longer be the case if Archy and his rat pack knew where they were staying.

“I don't like taking orders from that Archy, but he already knows where we are. We switch hotels after you get the information.”

Then Cobb hung up.

Groaning, Arthur turned over and hoped for another five minutes. Unfortunately, when he was up, there was no hope in curling himself under the covers and getting back to sleep. So he got up and ready for the meeting with Archy's minion. Arthur knew nothing and he was more than a little nervous and apprehensive of the whole thing. He had grown to hate being thrown into situations blindly.

Dressed in his suit with his hair curling from his shower, Arthur went down to the restaurant. If Cobb had not mention a specific time, then it meant 'now'. When he got to the restaurant, everyone was dressed with style and he felt a little self conscious in his old suit without a jacket and his white shirt slightly discoloured from the washing machine.

He looked around, but couldn't find anyone that appeared to be waiting for someone. Going into something like this without information wasn't his idea of a good time.

“Our table is over here,” a thick voice said behind him. A solid, warm hand on his shoulder lead him gently in the right direction.

Their table was a booth in the corner of the restaurant where their conversation had little chance of being overheard, even if someone was eavesdropping. Although that seemed unlikely due to the clientèle: two old ladies at a table chatting and the staff. Still, if Arthur had learned anything in his time with the Cobbs, it was to never underestimate the situation.

The moment they sat down, a waiter came to their table and the man took the initiative, ordering for them both. Able to get a decent look at him now, Arthur was able to properly appraise the man. Although Arthur had never dated or slept with a man, he considered himself open to the possibility and was not adverse to evaluating the looks of his own sex. His hair was shorter than Arthur usually liked, but everything else from facial features to body type appealed to him.

“Handsome Bob,” the man said in way of introduction.

“Yes you a—Arthur,” he cleared his throat, “My name is Arthur.”

To hide his slip up, he extended his hand for a formal greeting. Bob — _Handsome Bob_ — smirked at the gesture and not Arthur's approval of the nickname. Or so he fucking hoped.

They shook hands; Bob's were calloused and strong. The images that stormed his brain made him regret shaking hands...but not really.

“Nice to finally meet you, Arthur,” Bob practically purred his name. Arthur wanted nothing but to hear the man repeat his name all night long – preferably in his ear – until he remembered how highly unprofessional it was; informants shouldn't be purring during a meeting.

The waiter came back with their drinks: coffee for Arthur and a pint of ale for Bob. Arthur raised his brow; how did he know that Arthur drank coffee?

Lucky guess. Had to be.

Bob waved off the waiter when he tried to take their food order.

“Do you have it?” Arthur asked, his voice pitched lower just in case someone was tailing Bob, and not because it made things seem a little more intimate with them the way Bob had to scoot closer to hear him.

“'Course I have it. One Two was supposed to come, but he ditched, so here I am.”

Arthur didn't know what he was talking about after 'I have it', but he smiled tightly and nodded just to be polite.

Arthur waited a beat after Bob had fallen silent, but when the other just looked at him, annoyance starting to sink in. “Well?”

“Well, I thought we'd start with biscuits, then leave this place: I show you London and then we go dancing,” Bob said, his smirk returning (not that it left, but Arthur refused to admit that he was paying attention to that).

“...Just hand it over.”

“Oh no. I'm serious. If you want it, you know where to find me.”

The smirk turned into a smile and Handsome Fucking Bob stood up and left the table, leaving Arthur bewildered and very much disappointed. The folder in Bob's hand as he walked through the doors laughed at him.

Cobb would be upset. And how the hell was Arthur supposed to know where to find him?

Suppressing a frustrated outburst, he started his apology speech in his head and drank his coffee. Under his mug he found a slip of paper with Bob's number on it.


End file.
